


Distance Makes the Heart Grow Fonder

by TheGirlWithTheRedBalloon



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Eventual Johnlock, F/M, Female John Watson, Kidlock, Sherlock is kind out of character quite a bit actually, Teenlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-18
Updated: 2014-01-03
Packaged: 2017-12-23 23:11:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 9,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/932192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheGirlWithTheRedBalloon/pseuds/TheGirlWithTheRedBalloon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock Holmes and Jane Watson met when they were children but a few years later, Jane had to move.  This is an account of the times they met throughout the years after that first initial encounter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Looking Back/Boys and Girls

**Author's Note:**

> Hello. I just want to say thank you to anyone who's reading this. It's my first fanfic, or any written work of mine, that I've shared with other people.
> 
> Some chapters may be very short, others may be longer.

Jane looks at herself in the mirror. Her blonde hair has been pulled up and away from her face in an intricate bun of braids. Her blue eyes sparkle under mascara and her lips are full and pink. She smoothes her hands down the silky material of her dress. The top is a low revealing drape that gives a watery appearance to the whole thing. It’s fitting, but loose. There’s a knock on the door and Mike’s head pops in. He smiles when he sees her.

“My God, you’re beautiful.” Jane smiles back in thanks. “We are starting in ten. The priest wanted to make sure you know.” Jane nods.

“I’ll see you in there.” She says, slipping her shoes on.

“I’ll be up at the front.” And with that, he closes the wooden door and leaves Jane to herself.

She turns back to her reflection and picks up the chain on the table. The dazzling blue-grey-green stone of the ring hanging from it flicks sunlight around the room. She straightens her shoulders and lifts her chin before she clasps the chain around her neck. There are so many memories attached to this one piece of jewelry.

Just down the hall, Sherlock stands at the front of the church with the groomsmen. He’s in a tux like the others as well but feels strangely out of place. He looks around at the guests and their families. How unaware they all are, that today is not just a ‘special day.’ It’s a day that marks a change, a huge shift in the lives of two people. It signals the ending of one way and the beginning of another that will be significantly different than before. Or perhaps not. Perhaps they will remain, as they always have been, the best of friends. Only time will tell.

As the music begins and everyone takes their places, Sherlock and Jane take a moment to remember.

\-----------

When she was 4, Jane Watson had to move to London. A new town, a new home, and a new school. On her first day at Westside Primary School, she sat alone at free-time watching the others play and laugh, during art she colored on her own, and at lunch, she sat and quietly munched on her peanut butter and jelly sandwich while the other kids ate and laughed together. She sighed and warm tears trailed down her cheeks.

That is until a little boy, just slightly taller than she, with pale skin, an unruly mop of dark curls, and the lightest and clearest blue eyes she’d ever seen sat down at her side.

“Don’t be sad, Jane Watson. They’re all boring idiots; let them giggle together. We shall have adventures and be amazing.” He lifted her head with his small hand and brushed her tears away. He took her right hand and shook it. “I’m Sherlock Holmes.” He pressed a kiss to the top of her hand, no doubt something he’d learned from his older brother or an old romance film. She giggled, a musical sound bubbling from her throat and sweetening the air.

“Jane Watson. But you already know that.” She smiled and he grinned back.

For the rest of the school year, the two children did everything together, they ate at lunch side by side, they did their maths puzzles together, or rather Sherlock did their maths puzzles because he got bored after the few seconds it took him to complete his own, and they ran around the playground looking at different types of dirt and bugs and tracks left by animals for their little adventures.

But three years later, when they were 7, Jane had to move again. She told Sherlock and they sat and cried together in Jane’s room after school.

The day she was leaving, Sherlock came to her house to say a final goodbye. She gave him her favorite locket, the one her mum gave her before she died, it was a small, silver oval that held an old picture of a daisy and a new picture of Jane that she put in it before handing it to the boy. Sherlock took it with a sad smile and clasped it around his neck before pulling out his gift. A slim band of silver that held a gem that matched Sherlock’s eyes dangled from a delicate chain.

“I had to put it on the necklace ‘cause it’s too big for you now.” He stepped around her and clasped it behind her neck. “It was the ring Grandfather gave Grand-mum when they got engaged. But she left it to me when she died. Now I want you to have it.” He beamed at her before both their faces crumpled inward, unable to hold back the emotions.

They hugged each other and cried till they could not stand so they sat down on the pavement outside Jane’s emptied house and cried some more. Their parents almost had to force them apart but their tears softened to sniffles and they disentangled from each other with a parting smile and his “we won’t forget about each other” and her reply of “Never.”


	2. Bittersweet

In the summer a few years later, when Jane was 11 and her family was living in Manchester, Jane was walking to the park across the street from her family’s flat. On her way there, she passed by a little path that led to a stream. She could hear the water and decided to go have a look.

When she reached the river, she noticed a figure about ten metres down stream. She walked closer and saw a boy with pale skin and a head of messy, dark curls. The boy was hunched over something and poking at it with a small branch. Jane watched for a moment, silent and still.

“I know you’re there.” The boy abruptly declared. “I don’t want to play, go away.” He didn’t turn around but Jane suddenly realized who he was. He was taller than she remembered and his voice was stronger, but he was definitely who she thought he was. Noticing that she hadn’t left, the boy turned around and Jane fashioned her lips into a smile. “I said, go aw-” He stopped when he saw her and the ring dangling from a chain around her neck. Jane cocked her head to the left. The boy stared at her, blinking his eyes rapidly.

“Jane?” He took a few steps forward, the object he was fiddling with forgotten.

“Hello, Sherlock.” Jane grinned and ran to him, catching him in a hug before he could resist. They laughed and grasped each other tightly, afraid to let go incase it was just a dream. Sherlock smelled like clean soap when Jane’s face was pressed to his skin but Sherlock thought Jane smelled like warm vanilla. Then Jane felt tears in her eyes and she sniffled. Sherlock pulled back.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, a puzzled expression on his face. “Aren’t you happy?” Jane wiped her eyes with her palms.

“That’s just it. I’m so happy. I never thought I’d see you again.” She smiled and hugged him again to prove her point. Sherlock smoothed a hand down her hair, it was something he’d seen his father do to his mother when she was crying and thought it would be appropriate. They pulled apart again slowly and smiled at each other. Then Sherlock had a brilliant idea.

“I have some money, do you want ice cream?” He’d seen a little shop on his way over to the river and the vanilla perfume of Jane’s skin had reminded him of it. He was briefly puzzled by why Jane made him feel so warm inside but decided to come back to that later.

“Sure!” So they raced back to the streets, side by side, laughing and smiling all the way there. After getting their frozen dessert, they sat outside the shop on a bench. “So why are you here?” Jane asked around her last bite of mint-chip.

“One of Father’s cousin’s died so we all had to go to the funeral.”

“Oh. How long are you staying for?”

“Not much longer.” The voice came from an older boy who was now standing in front of them. He was a bit chubby but tall with light brown hair. “Sherlock, Mummy has been worried sick about you. What did you think you were doing?” Sherlock ignored his brother and Jane was having trouble remembering him.

“Wait-” She squinted a bit and then grinned. “Mycroft?” The boy turned to her.

“Ah, yes, Ms. Watson. You have grown up quite a bit.” He smiled but it came out a bit funny and he looked like he’d bit into a lemon. “Sherlock, we are leaving.” Sherlock looked at Jane.

“I’m sorry, I have to go.” He said, standing.

“Okay.” She smiled sadly and got to her feet too and they hugged each other again.

“We’ll see each other again.” He stated it like it was a fact, like not even World War III could prevent it.

“Yes.” And Jane watched as Sherlock was pulled away from her and down the street.


	3. Something New

A few years later, when Jane was 14, her family took a trip to Paris. It was in the spring and everything was beautiful and Jane was enamored with it all. Her dad had splurged on the hotel and Jane and her older sister, Harriet, split their time between lounging by the pool and exploring the hotel. The family took day trips to see the sights and went for picnics in the parks.

Today, they were at the Parc des Buttes Chaumont. It was a gorgeous place with a lake surrounding a temple that was set atop a rocky mountain, reachable by a wooden suspension bridge.

“Daddy,” Jane looked at her father. “Can I go to the lake?” She was dying to explore on her own, to walk by all the other people and try to figure out who they were. It was something she used to do with her best friend back in London and it reminded her of him. She still wore the ring around her neck.

“Sure, Janie. Do you want Harriet to come with you?” Her father looked around, realizing that his eldest daughter wasn’t beside him. “Where is you’re sister?” Jane looked up and pointed to a spot a few yards away.

“Over there, talking to some girl. Can I go now?” Jane asked urgently.

“Yes, alright.” She sped off through the grass to the path, her dad yelling after her, “Be careful!”

Jane reached the pathway and slowed her pace. She needed to focus on the details. “Don’t just see, Jane. You need to observe them.” So she did her best, which, admittedly, wasn’t as good as Sherlock’s best. But that’s what she loved about him, he was always so smart and she used listened to him rattle off facts like it was God’s word.

She was sitting on a wooden bench looking at a couple lounging in the grass. She was trying to determine whether the wife was having an affair or her husband had bought her the outlandish diamond bracelet on her wrist. Then a low voice interrupted her thoughts.

“It’s not an affair.” She whipped her head around but saw no one behind her. There was a soft chuckle and then the voice spoke again. “Look up.” She lifted her eyes to the large tree whose shade she sat in. There was a boy perched on a wide branch staring down at her, a pair of ice-blue eyes fixed on hers. She gasped when she finally recognized him.

“Sherlock!” She broke into a wide grin.

“Surprise.” He giggled.

“What are you doing in a tree, 'Lock?” She had to strain her head backwards to keep him in view and it was getting uncomfortable.

“Observing. Come up here, it’s fun.” Jane glanced down at the pale blue sundress she wore and sighed.

“I can’t, I’m in a dress. You come down here.” Sherlock rolled his eyes but pulled himself lithely from the branches, landing perfectly on his feet. Jane had to blink a few times when he stopped in front of her as she took in how different he seemed. Of course he looks different, Stupid, she thought to herself. But he really hadn’t changed much. His pale skin was still pale and his eyes were still that same shockingly clear color. His dark, curly hair was a bit longer and more unruly but it still fell across his forehead the same way it always had. His bottom lip was poutier and his cheekbones were more angular. He was much taller, certainly much taller than her 5’2, but still slender and fluid.

True, she had changed as well. Her blonde hair had grown past her shoulders and her body was forming all the right parts quite nicely. She was fortunate to have not gotten acne as many of her classmates and friends had and she was altogether quite lovely. But Sherlock had turned into a handsome, young man and it made Jane’s heart all aflutter.

“Hello.”

“Hi.” Jane quickly recovered. “What are you doing here?” Sherlock gave a little half smile.

“Do you want me to leave?”

“O-Of course not, I just… I mean… What I meant to say was are you here on holiday.” God, why was that so hard to say? She asked herself. Because he’s cute and you’re an idiot.

“Sort of.”

“Sort of? How can one be ‘sort of’ on holiday?” They started walking down the path that led to the lake.

“When one is on holiday with Mycroft.” He spat the name out like it was a bad taste in his mouth. “The fat oaf is driving me mad. Just last week he threw out my experiment on the growth of mold in a bath when left uncleaned for three weeks.” 

"Was that an experiment or just you being too lazy to clean the tub?" Jane joked and Sherlock huffed out a laugh.

He looked like he had spent too many days in a small space with nothing to do from the way he was twitching. “Mummy sent us here to try to get the two of us to ‘bond’.” He looked disgusted by the thought of having to spend any more time with his elder brother. “Are you here on holiday?”

“Yep. Dad thought it’d be nice after the few months we had to spend in China.” She didn’t know what her dad did for work; he never talked to her and Harriet about it so she figured it was a secret and she never asked. But she was pretty sure that Sherlock had deduced it when they were children.

They had reached the bridge and had stopped walking. The conversation had stopped too and they were leaning against the edge of the bridge. It was a beautiful place and there were a few couples standing around looking out at the scenery. She thought maybe she should say something to break the thick tension that had crept up between them. But before she could open her mouth, she felt Sherlock’s warm hand on hers. She looked up at him. His expression was caught somewhere between happiness, confusion, and fear. She took a breath and – 

“Janie!” Her sister shouted from the other side of the bridge. “Dad sent me to get you, we’re leaving!” Jane let out a frustrated sigh and shook her head.

“This keeps happening. Every time we see each other, some one takes one of us away.” She said.

“At least we do keep seeing each other.” Sherlock smiled that ridiculously adorable half smile.

“Jane! Come ON!”

“Until next time, then.” He bent his head down and pressed a soft kiss to her cheek.

“Yeah. Next time.” She let go of his hand reluctantly and walked back to her sister in somewhat of a haze. When she turned around to look back at Sherlock, he was gone.


	4. When Things Changed

The ‘next time’ happened to be four years later, at a party in London. Jane had just finished her A-Levels and had been convinced by her friend, Mike, to come out and celebrate. She wasn’t much for alcohol since the stint Harriet, now Harry, had pulled that landed her in rehab. But she figured that after all the hard work she had put in she deserved at least a little fun.

She also was not one for dressing up. Another friend that had agreed to join her and Mike had insisted that she wear something that was not a jean and sweater combo. She now felt ridiculous in the tight blue dress and black pumps. She could only pray that she wouldn’t trip on her way down the stairs. She gripped the railing as hard as possible and walked down to where Mike and Kristy were standing at the door.

“Stop fidgeting, Jane! You look great.” Kristy, who was in a black sequined number, pulled her hands from the hem. “This is supposed to be fun. Mike?” She turned to the man who shrugged in response. “You are no help at all.”

“Look, Kris, it’s fine. I’m okay. I think I can handle a little party.” Then they all piled into a cab and were off.

The party was not little. It wasn’t even moderately sized. It was enormous. Jane felt exposed and wanted to scramble back into the cab, go home, and drink a nice cuppa. But before she had a chance to protest, Kristy grabbed her hand and pulled her inside. The club was warm and stuffy, the air clouded by too many sweaty bodies packed together.

“I’ll get us drinks!” Mike shouted over the noise and loud music.

“Wait, Mike. I don’t –” But he was already lost in the sea of people. “Okay, Kristy. I’m here, now what?” She turned to her friend to find her gone. She looked around trying to find a familiar face, pushing her way through the throng. She turned around again, searching, and backed up into something solid. She spun to face whoever it was and found herself looking into light, blue-grey-green eyes.

For a moment, she forgot the club and the loud music and the sticky bodies of the other people. For a moment, all she saw was Sherlock, just for a moment. Then a pair of arms wormed their way across Sherlock’s chest and a woman’s face appeared at his left shoulder. She was tall and elegant, long legs shot out from a small, tight skirt. She mirrored Sherlock’s pale skin and dark hair.

“Who’s your friend, ‘Lock?” She purred into his ear. Jane felt sick. She turned and shoved her way through the mass of people, desperately trying to reach the door before Sherlock could come after her. She hoped in vain. A hand curled around her arm just as she reached fresh air. She spun around to face him.  
“What?!” It was Mike, not Sherlock, who had followed her out. She huffed out a breath.

“Um… You alright, Jane?” He looked at her with kind, concerned eyes. She wiped a hand down her face and nodded.

“Yeah. Yeah, Mike, I’m fine. I’m just not feeling too well. I think I’ll catch a cab back home.”

“Okay,” He dropped her arm. “You need some money?”

“No.” The deep voice that answered belonged to Sherlock, who had just stepped out of the club. “I’ll go with her.” Mike looked back at Jane in question.

“It’s alright, mate. I know him.” She climbed into the cab that pulled up and Sherlock slipped in behind her. She gave the cabbie her address but fell silent for the rest of the ride. Sherlock could tell she was angry and confused but he didn’t know how to handle situations like these. He was often the cause of the anger people felt toward him and he didn’t care but he also had never thought of those people as important like Jane was. So, he left her to fume in silence.  


When they reached her flat, Sherlock got out and held the door open for her. Jane got out, ignoring him, and opened the front door. She did, however, leave it open for him rather than doing what she really wanted to and slamming it in his face. In quiet anger that had Sherlock tiptoeing around her, she took off her jacket and went to the kitchen to make tea.  


Sherlock was unsure of what to do so he stood in her living room and waited. He was confused. He was annoyed about having to admit that but it was the truth. He had known Jane for almost his whole life. They had kept in contact after Paris through letters until a few months ago. She had always been kind to him, even when he was annoying or frustrating. When Jane finally got a mobile phone, he called her every day, sometimes in the middle of the night, and she never got mad. How was she like that? How could she accept him and all his madness when the rest of the world thought him a freak? In fact, Jane had been puzzling since the moment he met her. With all her compassion and loyalty, she had chosen to befriend him. He didn’t understand it. Much like he didn’t understand her now.  


Was this about Irene? He wondered as he waited. Was Jane upset about how Irene had acted at the club? Why would that make her –? Oh. Had he missed something? Was there something in the late-night calls and the pages of letters from her that he had somehow overlooked? Could there be more in Jane than just friendship? Again, he was baffled. Emotions had never been his forte; he had always been more than a little cold toward the women who had approached him over the past few years. But, he glanced at Jane in the kitchen; he had never been that way with Jane. And she had never mentioned anything like a boyfriend in her calls and letters. Could it be that she –?  


Jane thrust a mug at his chest and he took it just in time before she walked away and it fell to the floor. The cup was warm and filled with milky tea. He took a sip and closed his eyes in a silent sigh. It was made just how he liked it; how he had told Jane he liked it. She was mad at him but she still had the kindness to make his tea perfectly. He furrowed his brow in bewilderment.  


“Is something wrong? Is it the tea?” Jane asked from her perch on the sofa. She had curled herself into the corner of the leather couch by the armrest with her legs bundled up beneath her and the mug clutched to her chest. Why was she worried about his tea when she was mad?  


“No. No, it’s perfect.” He said slowly, trying to work things out in his head. It was staring to give him a headache though. He had to take a few deep breaths before speaking again. “I don’t understand.” It was a huge thing for him to admit defeat but right now, he just wanted to understand his best friend.  


“What do you mean?”  


“You were so upset back there at the party, in the cab. How are you so calm? Why aren’t you yelling at me or throwing things at my head?” Jane’s eyebrows shot up at the last comment.  


“Is that what people normally do? Throw things at you when you make them angry?” Her voice was kind but there was a light amusement hidden behind it.  


“So you are angry.”  


“Of course I am, ‘Lock.” She said, setting her mug on the table and rising to walk and stand in front of him. “And that’s my nickname for you. She doesn’t have the right to use it.” Sherlock let out a breath. So it was about Irene.  


“Why not?” It was a simple question not an offensive one and Jane understood that. She took in a deep breath.  


“Because she doesn’t know you like I do. You told me they all see you as something different, a challenge or a freak or an alluring being. But they don’t really see you. I do. I know who you are under all that ice and all those walls you put up. You’re human. You have a heart, Sherlock. No matter what they all might believe, you do.” She took one of her hands and placed her palm on his chest. The contact made his pulse spike and all his concentration went to that light pressure of her hand and the warmth that seeped through the thin material of his white dress shirt. “See?” Jane said, feeling the beat of his heart as well as that solid, perfectly sculpted chest. She didn’t want to remove her hand. But when she did, she caught one of Sherlock’s and placed it over her own heart. She felt him jump a little but chose not to comment on it. “It’s the same as mine.”  


Sherlock was having difficulties remembering how to breathe. What is happening to me? He thinks. How could I have missed this?  


He’s so distracted by the skin-on-skin contact that he barely registers the hand on his chest, pushing him back, until Jane has him pinned against the door. “What does she mean to you?” She whispered. Sherlock raised his eyes from his hand on her skin.  


“Nothing. How could she mean anything?” The emotions Sherlock had spent his life not knowing he could feel hit him like a tsunami.  


“Why’s that?” Sherlock knew the answer immediately.  


“Because she’s not you.” Then Jane pressed herself against him and pulled his head down with those warm hands. Sherlock bent instinctively and then her lips were on his and his hands wrapped around her waist. The kiss was passionate and hurried, like at any moment it could end and both wanted it to last as long as possible. When Jane’s tongue pushed its way past Sherlock’s lips, he flipped them around and lifted her up, bracing her against the door, and she wrapped her legs around his waist.  


When the need for oxygen became too strong, they broke apart with panting breaths and tingly lips. It was Sherlock who spoke first. “When are you leaving?”  


“Next Wednesday. How did you know?” She asked between breaths.  


“The plane ticket on your notice board under your name.” She glanced over his shoulder and saw it pinned there. “Your family will be happy to see you.” Jane smiled at him.  


“I’m sure Dad will be, I’m not too sure about Harry though, I did make her go to rehab.”  


“You did what was, is, best for her." Jane sighed. "Well, we have a week and a half for you to forget all about it, then you can go back to worrying, sound fair?” She nodded in agreement.

“Where are you staying?”

“I’ll find someplace.” He shrugged.

“Stay here.” He looked at her in question. “Kristy’s already moved her stuff out and is leaving for Spain in the morning and Mike is moving out and going to his parents’ tonight. There’ll be nobody but me left,” She stuck out her bottom lip. “And I do get so lonely on my own.” Sherlock couldn’t help himself. He leaned down and caught her lip between his for a moment.

“Alright. I’ll stay.” Right then, the front door was opened, making the two of them jump back as Mike came through. 

“Jane!” He said, head bent so he didn’t see them there. “Jane, what the hell was tha –” He finally looked up. “Oh.” Mike looked between the two of them standing there, arms around each other, before focusing on Jane. “What’s he doing here?” He sounded upset. Sherlock stiffened and moved to defend Jane but she held him back and stepped forward.

“Mike, this is Sherlock.” She said, gesturing to him. “He’s a… a friend and he’ll be staying here with me for a few days.” She said, pointedly emphasizing her words so Mike would understand. And by the way he turned beet red, she assumed he got the picture.

“Oh. Oh, right. Okay. Well, nice to meet you…” He blanked on the name.

“Sherlock. Sherlock Holmes.” He held out his right hand and Mike shook it with a bit too much nervous enthusiasm.

“Sherlock, right, okay. I’m just gonna grab the last of my stuff and be off.” He bolted up the stairs and left Jane giggling beside Sherlock.

“Well,” She said. “That get’s that out of the way.” They listened as Mike’s footstep thudded around his room before going down the stairs with a suitcase and a few boxes.

“The cab’s still out there so I’m just gonna…” He looked between them again. “Right, bye. See you at Bart’s in a few weeks, Jane.” Then the door slammed behind him and they were left in silence.

“You’re going to be a future doctor.” Sherlock broke the quiet.

“That’s the plan.” He pulled her back to him and cupped her face in his hands.

“You’ll be a great doctor.” He said, looking into her eyes. She smiled back at him before pulling his lips to hers.

That night and the days following, Sherlock slept on the couch and Jane in her room. In the mornings, Jane would get up and make tea and Sherlock would wake to the smell of toast or eggs. They would sit and chat for a while before Sherlock got bored and went out. It never bothered Jane, she knew his ways and how he worked. So when he did leave, Jane would read her med school textbooks and take notes. Sherlock would come back later and they’d lounge around together.

On the morning Jane had to leave, she made the usual tea but didn’t wait to wake Sherlock. Instead, she kneeled beside him and kissed him awake. He woke with a surprised jolt then relaxed into the kiss. Jane broke away and held out a piece of paper.

“That’s my new address. This place is too expensive for just two people so Mike and I are finding another place that’s cheaper. You can come visit whenever you want.” Sherlock took the paper and swung himself up.

“Thank you.”

“I made tea. But you have to drink it fast ‘cause we need to be out of here within the hour. The landlord was pretty strict about that.” The rest of her stuff had already been moved with Mike’s help over the week during Sherlock’s outings.

So they drank their tea and Sherlock put on new clothes that he’d bought during his stay and they left. Sherlock drove with Jane to the airport in a taxi and waited with her at the terminal. When it came time for her to board, they kissed goodbye. It was soft but intense and it conveyed all that they couldn’t say. Then Jane got on board and Sherlock was left to catch a cab home. He looked down at himself, at the locket around his neck, and wondered how one person could change everything.


	5. Milestone

Thee weeks into medical school, Jane got a call from Sherlock at 2:00 am on a Thursday morning. This was their conversation.

_Hello?_

**Jane.**

_Sherlock, what’s wrong? Are you alright?_

**Yeah. Yes, I’m perfectly fine.**

_Then may I ask why you’re calling me this early?_

Pause

_Sherlock?_

**Hmm?**

_Come on. What’s up? I know you don’t like to share, but this is me, talk to me, mate._

Another pause.

 **Father died.** Sherlock’s father had always been extremely harsh with him, he was, Jane suspected, the reason Sherlock had grown to be the way he was, closed off and cold. His father had taught him and Mycroft that love was a false hope and that intelligence was to be held above all emotion. Sherlock’s mother was a sort of buffer to that stony man and Sherlock had begun to learn that there was more to life than brilliance but his father had influenced him too much before she could help. The death of him was like the tearing down of the Berlin Wall of Sherlock’s life that had held back his capacity to care about others. So far, Jane had been the only one to scale that wall. Perhaps this could be the beginning of a new life for Sherlock.

_How are you?_

**Good. Better, I think. A bit sad, but more relieved than anything. Is that not good?**

_No, it’s… I think it’s completely valid._

Pause.

_Do you want come over?_

**Yeah.**

_Okay._


	6. Healing Old Wounds

There was a knock at Jane’s door 30 minutes after that phone call. She hadn’t changed and she answered the door in red Mini Mouse sweatpants and her dad’s old army sweatshirt. She opened the door to reveal Sherlock. He looked like a lonely puppy, lost in a heavy storm. His dark curls lay flattened to his head and across his face, his coat was soaked, and his shoulders were hunched over.

“What did you do, walk here?” Jane said with a soft smile. “Come on, the rain’s not gonna let up for a while.” She opened her arms and Sherlock heaved a sigh before stumbling his way through the door and into her. “Oof.” She huffed as his long arms wrapped around her.

“Thank you.” He said, softly, as he closed her front door. He took a look around the front room. “Mike’s not home.” Jane glared and shook her head teasingly at him.

“You- I’m not even going to ask how, but no, he’s out with Kristy right now.”

“Good.”

Jane was about to say something but before she could, the soft pressure of Sherlock’s lips on hers cut her off. She hummed her appreciation against his mouth and clasped her hands around his neck to pull him closer. They stood like that for a while, breath and tongues mingling, before breaking apart to breathe. Between pants, Jane spoke.

“We need… to slow down… Sherlock.” He pulled back a little, feeling rejected. He had just been liberated from the one person who had prevented him from feeling happy about anything and was suddenly terrified that Jane was going to take this new joy away from him. Seeing that he took it the wrong way, Jane pressed her lips to his again. “I don’t mean I want you to leave, I just mean…” She huffed, trying to get her mind to concentrate. “You’re my best friend. We may not have always been around each other but I have known you for my whole life. I just want to be careful, I don’t want to screw up and loose everything we had before,” She gestured between them. “This. I don’t want to loose your friendship.” Sherlock nodded, understanding what she meant. “Come on,” She let go of him and turned around, heading to the kitchen. “Do you want some tea?”

“Please.”

An hour later, Mike came home to a dark house; he was surprised to find his roommate and Sherlock on the couch. They sat side-by-side, slouched against each other. Sherlock had his arm around Jane’s shoulders and Jane was curled into his chest, her legs tucked up beside her. The muted television threw odd colors across them, giving an ethereal light to the situation, and their mugs sat empty on the table as they slept. Mike smiled to himself as he climbed the stairs to his room.


	7. Retaliation and Promises

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to say to all of you readers who like my work: Thank you. Thank you so much. It makes me very happy to know that I have not failed terribly.

After Sherlock’s gap year, during which Mycroft had forced him to do something productive like work, he left London for Cambridge to study Chemistry. While Jane thrived in her environment at Bart’s, Sherlock kept to himself. Although the main plug on his emotional reserve had been pulled and buried almost two years ago, he still had a difficult time showing any emotion. Not only that, but now, more than ever, he found it harder to even fake it. He simply didn’t care about other people. Within the first two months, Sherlock had managed to piss off his more tormenting schoolmates through verbal exploitation and alienate himself from the rest. Many either avoided him or attempted to engage him in physical confrontation.  


The last was always a mistake. Because of his lean build, he was commonly mistaken as weak, the fact that he was taller than most of his assailants had no affect on his being used as a target. Whenever confronted, Sherlock always let the other party throw the first punch. It was usually to his gut or jaw. This tactic was used not only to make it appear to be a fair fight (which it never was because Sherlock was undoubtedly superior), but also to observe the other man’s style and strengths and to calculate the most effective retaliation. This was how he ‘defended’ himself in a way that not only injured the flesh but also the ego of his perpetrator. He wanted them to know that he was superior in every way, intellectually and physically.  


They always fought with fists (something Sherlock hated because it would be much more satisfying to demolish their pride in a battle of the minds), it was supposed to be a sort of test of masculinity. This made Sherlock laugh because although he’d beaten several of them, these boys still insisted on publically questioning his sexuality. None of them knew about Jane, though he doubted they would stop if he did tell them about her.  


The fights were also carried out outdoors so neither could be boxed in and only one’s fists were to be used. This, and only this, was why Sherlock was unprepared when Moran came at him with a knife in the empty lab Sherlock had commandeered. He had not come alone; they never did. Always bringing along witnesses to show that the great Sherlock Holmes could be brought down. Once they had been beaten, their friends always offered a hand and laughed at their feeble attempts.  


Moran didn’t have _friends ___, though; he had a group of young men who would rather join the enemy than fight him to protect his life. It was a defense that Sherlock found rather amusing and unimaginative. They were afraid of being on the wrong side of their leader’s anger.  


Ah, yes. It was anger that had Sebastian Moran challenging Sherlock. Although it was painfully obvious that Moran was not the brightest star in the sky (and was accepted only through the use of bribery and blackmail), it was not considered wise to publically announce it. Moran had lost some of his credibility and was out to take it back.  


“Hey, poofter!” Moran shouted from the door. Sherlock’s back was turned to him but he knew his cronies surrounded him. “Oi, Freak, I’m talking to you.” Sherlock rolled his eyes.  


“Predictable.” He muttered, unfortunately not realizing Moran was right behind him. When Sherlock turned quickly to face him, his jaw met Moran’s fist a bit harder than was expected. It knocked him back and he tipped over the experiment he’d been working on. Sherlock retaliated and it was when he lifted his right arm that Moran struck him on the side, just below his ribs, with the knife.  


Sherlock didn’t remember falling but he did feel a sharp pain as his skull hit the tile floor. There was blood, a lot of blood. He could hear Moran’s gang shouting and running from the room, calling for help. Moran remained though and bent down to whisper something in Sherlock’s ear.  


“If you ever insult me again, just remember that I am capable of so much more than this little scratch.” Then he stood and before leaving kicked Sherlock in the stomach for good measure. Sherlock tried to get up but pain shot through him and he coughed and held his bleeding side, putting as much pressure on the wound as he could. He felt himself loosing conscious just as he saw dark shapes rushing into the room.  


He woke up a few hours later on a cot in the hospital. He was hooked up to a heart monitor that was growing increasingly annoying. He attempted to sit up but pain stabbed his side and he finally registered that he was currently not wearing a shirt and had a very large beige bandage around his middle. He could also tell that he was not being given any pain meds.  


“Oh, Mycroft. Ever the concerned elder brother.” He said sarcastically. The door opened softly. Sherlock had expected to see his mother or Mycroft but was shocked when Jane appeared in the doorway.  


“Oh, you’re awake.” She said gently, holding tea and settling down in the chair beside the cot.  


“Ish.” Sherlock groaned and looked at his friend.  


“Here,” She held out the cup. “Just how you like it.” Sherlock took it and took a sip.  


“Thank you.” Jane nodded and folded her hands in her lap. Sherlock knew that look. The one that said in Jane’s blue eyes, _you’ve been hurt and I know it’s your fault, I’m not angry, but what the hell did you do? ___It was the look that had kept Sherlock out of trouble for a very long time. He’d been on the receiving end of it many a time, in the silence between words on the phone, in pictures, in texts, and in video calls. Sherlock remained silent as Jane’s eyes bore into his. She raised an eyebrow.  


“Of course it wasn’t your fault. Your mouth has a mind of its own, does it?” Sherlock sighed in resignation.  


“He was annoying.” Jane rolled her eyes dramatically.  


“Right. And you’re never annoying which is why everyone loves you.” Sarcasm dripped from her words as she stood up and walked to his bed. “Scoot.” She lightly pushed Sherlock’s uninjured side and he carefully shuffled over so there was enough room for them both. Jane climbed onto the bed and under the blankets and curled herself into Sherlock’s warm body, laying her head on his bare chest. After a few moments of quiet breathing, she lifted her chin to look at him. “Don’t ever scare me like that again.” Sherlock looked down at her and nodded. “Swear it, Sherlock. Swear you wont put yourself in danger anymore.” He raised his right hand to cup her jaw.  


“I swear.” He whispered before bringing their lips together.


	8. Goodbye

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm not sure i really like how this one went. let me know if it's horrible.

Jane finished medical school just under four years later. She graduated top of her class and had a job lined up at St. Bart’s as a primary care doctor. Then one night, she had a sudden change of heart. The next day she enlisted in the Army. Her father didn’t have much to say other than a firm and direct “no.” Harry rolled her eyes and said something about her being the perfect child and wanting to save the world. Her friends had been supportive of her choice. The only person she had left to tell was Sherlock, and his was the only opinion that mattered. She wanted him to be proud of her, wanted him to smile and say she was brave and making a good choice. She did not expect the response he gave her.

She took a train to Cambridge and they went out for lunch, or Jane went out for lunch and Sherlock claimed he wasn’t hungry (as always). She had been calm for the whole train ride and was confident about what she would say but once Sherlock was in front of her, she couldn’t stop the nervous energy from making an appearance. Sherlock knew. Well, she thought Sherlock knew. She didn’t think he could know about what she was going to tell him but she knew that he knew that she was nervous. Her suspicions were soon confirmed.

“What is it, Jane?” He said in the sort of impatient but caring voice he only used with her. With everyone else, he was just impatient. But she still jumped at his words, suddenly being roused from her mind.

“Oh, um.” She took a deep breath and tried to steady herself. “Well,” Sherlock tilted his head in attention. “I’ve decided not to work at Bart’s.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m joining the army.”

Sherlock didn’t speak. He sat still and ramrod straight, his expression blank. Jane got the sudden feeling that she was talking to a statue and reached out to take his hand. The moment her fingers brushed his, life sprung back into him. But rather than look at her or speak to her, he stood up and walked out of the café.

Jane threw some money on the table, probably much more than necessary, before rushing out after her friend. She caught up to him at the corner or the street and grabbed his arm. He spun around, his eyes wide.

“What the hell, Lock?” She yelled. “Talk to me!” He just stood there, towering above her.

“No.” He whispered finally, his eyes softening and his expression melting into one of sorrow. But who was he to tell Jane what she could or could not do? Who was he to think he dictate her life?

“You don’t get to decide, Sherlock.” Her voice was rough and stern. Sherlock just shook his head; dark curls falling into his eyes.

“No.” He whispered again.

“It’s done, Sherlock. I’ve already enlisted.” Sherlock looked up then. And after a moment, he cupped Jane’s face in his palms and brought her lips to his. Jane took it as an apology for his reaction but Sherlock was saying goodbye. He couldn’t let her hurt him as so many had done before. So he would leave her. It was the only thing that made sense to him.

He cherished the few seconds and then broke away before rushing down the street and into the first cab he saw. Jane was left bewildered on the sidewalk but this was usual behavior, suddenly taking off, for Sherlock. She had no idea of what had really happened.


	9. A New Beginning/Another Choice

**Part One ******

Jane was worried. It had been weeks since she told Sherlock and not once had she been able to get ahold of him. She considered the probability that he was avoiding her so she went to his apartment. She was surprised to find that the man who answered the door was not Sherlock.

When weeks had turned into months, Jane gave up. She was tired of searching, of waiting up at night in case her phone rang, and tired of worrying. He didn’t want to see her and it was just something she would have to learn to accept. Sherlock was gone.

However much she missed him, Jane didn’t have time once training began. Her training took almost a whole year and then, sooner than she realized, she was off to Afghanistan.

**Part Two**

Sherlock felt the sun on his face before he saw it. He opened his eyes but was immediately regretful of that choice when the light stung his eyes. As he rolled over on his back he became keenly aware of his discomfort. His head throbbed as he sat up. He had never really needed sleep but found himself exceedingly drowsy. He laid his head in his hands as he tried to recall the events of the previous night. There was the party, the drinks, the dr – Sherlock’s stomach lurched and he fell back on the bed. His face was sweaty and he did not like the feeling of uncleanliness so, very carefully so as not to disturb the drummer inside his skull, he swung himself out of the bed and dragged himself to the bathroom sink.

“I hope this is a lesson for you, Sherlock.” Mycroft stood at the door and looked on as Sherlock splashed water on his face. He pushed past his older brother to crawl back in bed.

“Go away, Mycroft. I don’t need a reprimanding, nor do I want it.” He pulled his knees to his chest and closed his eyes.

“Oh?” Mycroft scoffed. “Really, Sherlock, you need a lot more than just a lecture. You need –”

“Get. Out.”

“Sherlock Holmes,” Sherlock cringed at his brothers raised voice. “This has got to stop! You will discontinue this erratic behavior immediately.” Sherlock groaned and hugged his knees tighter. “You will either stop or I will throw you out and tell mother to cut you off. Or worse, I’ll send you to rehab. Why don’t you get a job or something? You mentioned something about detective work a few weeks back. Make something of your life, Sherlock.” Mycroft made his way out the bedroom door. “Without the use of drugs.” He called back from the hall.

Sherlock considered his options. His brother had given him a choice of either work, which meant boredom, or rehab, which would be a disaster, or the drugs, which brought him calm and clarity but would mean no money. He had at least another few months worth of supplies plus the money he had saved for this sort of situation. He almost considered continuing life without the drugs. But the thought of being unable to still his ever-running mind was worse than the thought of getting clean. So life would proceed as usual.


	10. Reconnection

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My knowledge of the British Army is very limited and although I have spent quite a few hours attempting to make Jane's military and medical career realistic, I have decided to give up and just do what works for me. I apologize if this upsets you.

Eight Years Later

“Get him to cover!” Jane shouted at the few soldiers surrounding their fallen comrade. She grabbed her gear and ran with the three of them. “That building there!” They ran a few metres more and stopped. The building was the remnants of a brick house that had been caught in the bomb storm. Only three walls and part of the roof remained. It wasn’t very reliable but it would have to do for now. They couldn’t get to the chopper without bullets hailing down on them all. “There, yes, set him down, carefully. Carefully, I said!” Jane knelt on the man’s right. “Riley?” There was a groan from the man. “Riley, this is gonna hurt like hell.” Jane tied a tourniquet above the bullet hole in Riley’s leg. The bullet had hit the femoral artery and he was bleeding out. She didn’t have much time. Jane grabbed a tool and began to dig out the bullet. Riley screamed and bucked. “HOLD HIM DOWN!” Two men grabbed his feet and shoulders; the other held his chest. “Riley, I need to get the bullet out or you will die.” The man stilled. Jane finished removing it and began to close the wound when they were fired on.

Hell rained down on the soldiers and time flew by in triple speed. Bullets and dirt flew in the air, some men fell to the ground, shouting and screaming thundered in Jane’s ears. Then it stopped. A pain shot through Jane’s left shoulder and the world slowed almost completely. The several noises became a single sound and her vision became fuzzy. Jane was vaguely aware of falling. Then nothing.

“Get her ou-”

\------------

“We need to g-… bleed out. We don’t ha-”

\------------

“Bullet to left sho-

\------------

“Janie?” Jane’s eyelids fluttered as she woke. She could see the red and orange of a light behind her eyelids and could feel soft blankets under her fingertips. “Janie, you awake in there?” The voice registered as male. Jane opened her eyes and blinked away the blurriness. Her father came into focus, as did the hospital room.

“Dad?” She croaked out.

“Hey, Jane.” He shifted in the chair by her bed and took her hand. “How are you feeling?” Jane thought for a moment, trying to recall why she was in the hospital. She tried to sit up but pain shot through her left shoulder. “Hey, slow down there. You’re still healing.”

“I… I was…” She shook her head to clear it. Then it came back. “I was shot.” The battlefield, Riley’s leg, the ambush, it all rushed back. “Oh, God.” She groaned and sat up again. “OhGodOhGodOhGod, I was shot! OhmyGod!” She yelped from the pain and fell back on the bed. Her dad squeezed her hand and sat on the bed beside her.

“Calm down, Hun. Everything’s gonna be fine.”

“I’m Okay, Dad.” Her voice was soft as sleep crept in again.

“Alright, Honey. Alright.”

Jane was discharged from the hospital a week later but life would never go back to the way it had been. Along with the stiffness of her shoulder from the bullet, she received a limp, a cane, and a therapist. She was given a psych evaluation from the army but was ultimately honorably discharged, which left her jobless and depressed. The army pension provided enough funds for the basics, a tiny apartment, food, clothing, etc., but she would need to find work if she wanted a better living space. A walk through the park and a chat with an old friend led to just that and quite a lot more.

Jane was not expecting what she saw when Mike Stamford led her to the lab at Bart’s. But there he was, the same tall frame, curly dark hair, and pale skin that she remembered, leaning over a pitri dish. Some things would never change, even if everything else seemed to.

“Mike, can I borrow you phone?” He didn’t even look up, didn’t even know she was there. Mike didn’t have his phone. Needing him to see her, to remember her made her hold her mobile out and say, 

“Here. Use mine.” That’s when he looked up from his microscope, those same ice blue eyes gazing across the room at her.

“Oh,” He paused as he recognized her. But decided to play it cool and act normally. “Thank you.” He strolled over to her and took her phone. Mike, who must have forgotten that the two knew each other already, introduced them.

“Well,” Mike continued. “I’ll leave you to it then. See you ‘round, Jane.”

“Alright, mate.” The sound of the door clicking shut echoed through the room. There was a pause like a deep breath before either person spoke. Sherlock went back to staring through his microscope, leaving Jane to stare around the room. Her eyes eventually landed back on him. She stared at him, taking in every line and curve that she had so greatly missed. “You’re not even going to say hello?”

She watched as his body visibly tensed, the muscles tightening and his spine curling inward. It was like watching a viper coil before striking. The atmosphere grew tense and the electricity buzzed almost audibly. It felt like forever had passed in that single moment. Then he pounced. His body uncurled and sprung into motion. He leapt from his stool and rushed towards her. She found herself backing up and into the wall but he kept coming at her. His jaw was set and his eyes were fierce. She lifted her arms to shield herself but he pushed them aside, took her face between his palms and pressed his lips to hers. She didn’t hesitate to respond and flung her arms around him. Seconds later, Sherlock pulled away to look at her. His eyes traced every millimeter of her face before coming back to her own eyes.

“Hello.”


	11. The Eleventh Hour

Jane moved in with Sherlock and only minutes after, she was trailing along on his cases. He was brilliant and gorgeous and his cases were like action movies. On the days between cases, he was slow and annoying and drove Jane up the walls. But, when she sat down and thought about it, there was nothing about Sherlock that she would change. It all came together like a beautiful symphony, a whirlwind of different sounds and tempos that made him who he was.

The day Sherlock Holmes died was the day Jane Watson stopped living.

The day he came back was the day she truly understood him.

And this day, well, this day was about to begin…


	12. The Beginning at the End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It is done. My tale has been told. Our story comes to a close. I hope you all enjoyed reading it as much as I did writing it. I hope this last chapter fulfills your expectations of quality. I am not sure it fill mine so let me know what you think.
> 
> Thank you for reading,  
> The Girl With the Red Ballon

“Janie?” The hand on her shoulder makes her look up. Her father stands beside her. “You alright, Honey?” Jane looks at her father and he smiles. “Are you ready?” 

“I’ve never been more ready for anything.” She turns back to the doors leading to the church. They open just as the music begins.

\----------

Sherlock bounces in anticipation as the doors begin to open. Greg Lestrade lays a hand on his shoulder. “Calm down, Mate.”

“Graham," Sherlock begins.

"It's Greg."

"Right. Greg, if you were about to watch the love of your life walk down that isle, do you think you'd be able to be calm?” Greg nods and moves his hand. Sherlock watches as the doors finally open. And there she is. His rational brain would tell him otherwise but Sherlock swears he feels his heart stop the moment he sees his Jane walking down the isle.

The moment Jane spots him, her heart races. She’s not nervous, but she is impatient. The slow music is the complete opposite of her pulse pumping in her ears. They finally reach the alter and her father places her hand in Sherlock’s. They smile at each other and face the pastor.

Jane turns her head to the front but Sherlock’s eyes never leave her face. As the pastor speaks, he can see every emotion written in her eyes and in her smiles. He takes in every detail of this moment that he can because he will never get another chance to do so. The pastor has them face each other again.

“Sherlock and Jane have prepared their vows themselves. Let them now be heard.” The man gestures for Sherlock to begin. Sherlock clears his throat and takes a deep breath.

“Jane Haylie Watson,” Sherlock’s voice is unsteady but strong. “In our coming days together, I promise to not leave my experiments out on the dinner table, to clean up when I’ve spilled toxic chemicals in the kitchen, and to try to remember that the fridge is not for severed heads. But even more so, I promise to be kinder, to be more considerate, to pick up the milk, and love you more with each passing day.” He slides the ring onto her finger. “With this ring, I thee wed.”

“Sherlock Holmes,” Jane begins. “In our coming days together, I promise to be patient with you, especially when you’re having a sulk. I promise to be understanding and always caring. I promise to be kind, to be considerate, and to not swear at you so often. And I promise to love you more with each passing day. With this ring, I thee wed.” The pastor smiles and closes his book.

“I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.” Sherlock wastes no time in pulling Jane to him and pressing their lips together.

\-----------

At the reception, Lestrade gives the greatest and funniest best man speech, in which he recalls several memories of the couple working with him over the past years. Jane’s sister brings happy tears to everyone’s eyes, and Mycroft reluctantly agrees to say a few kindhearted words. There is food and drink as well as laughter and love. And as the newlyweds dance around the room, Jane knows that this is just the beginning.


End file.
